


this is his body (this is his love)

by brightlyburning



Series: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Kink Meme Fills [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Comeplay, FE3H Kinkmeme, Light Masochism, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Ritual Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strength Kink, Top Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Virginity, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24562792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlyburning/pseuds/brightlyburning
Summary: Felix turns to face him, shoulders hunched, arms crossed again, the momentary kindness sealed away. His narrowed gaze meets Dimitri's, and Dimitri can imagine what he sees: too-long hair, stubble, scars visible beneath the linen of his sleeping shirt. Certainly nothing like a king.Then Felix's jaw tightens, and he says in a torrent, "I wish to invoke the First Night."(A kink meme fill for the prompt, 'As per tradition, a Fraldarius' first time belongs to their Blaiddyd.')
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Kink Meme Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777993
Comments: 44
Kudos: 366





	this is his body (this is his love)

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently quarantine leads me to playing tactical RPGs, falling in love with a video game series I've never heard of, and writing 11K words of filthy, filthy porn. Hope you enjoy!

A firm knock on the door pulls Dimitri away from the map of Fhirdiad he's contemplating. They march north at the end of the moon to liberate Faerghus, and-  
  
"Come in."  
  
He's expecting Dedue or the professor, but it's Felix who enters. He's still in his training gear, his sword at his hip. He smells of lightning's aftermath.  
  
Felix shuts the door behind him softly, then turns, leans his back against the door, arms folded. For all he's a half-foot shorter than Dimitri, he somehow takes up more space with sheer force of personality. He glances around the dusty dormitory room lit by a guttering candle, the plain bed with a worn blue cloak tossed atop it, with furrowed brow, then says,  
  
"The first floor suits you poorly."  
  
Dimitri rolls the map up, ties it shut with careful fingers, then turns in the too-small chair. His spine cracks when he shifts, and the healing wound that maidservant gave him at Gronder Field pulls at his shoulder.   
  
"What point is there to being on the second? Besides, if the monastery falls under attack, it'd take too long for us to arrive at the front lines." To say nothing of the empty rooms along that hall, haunted by the bitter wind, the dust of five years, the innumerable ghosts. Dimitri knows the winding hollows of Garreg Mach all too well, has walked its echoing halls and battlements in nightmare time after time.  
  
"You are technically a king, to say nothing of nobility." Felix lets his arms drop and steps away from the door. The candlelight catches the amber of his eyes when he glances aside at Dimitri's armor, an empty black metal suit on its stand.  
  
Dimitri snorts. "If a king in exile is still a king."  
  
Felix reaches out to run a callused thumb across the blue cross on the cuirass. It marks a wound that'd almost killed Dimitri on his maddened flight south; catching an imperial patrol, he'd butchered them with his bare hands, and taken a spear thrust to the chest in recompense. His hands ache with the blood they've borne.  
  
Silence falls between them as Felix stares at the armor. Dimitri wants to smile, say something, wants to fall back into the easy companionship they had before the Western Rebellion, but Felix's friendliness is a new thing, untested. He pushes himself out of the damnable chair, noting how Felix's shoulders tighten at the creaking sound of his movement. Everyone but the professor and Dedue tread lightly around him these days, wary of the brute strength he carries within him.  
  
"I assume you haven't visited only to test my armor, Felix, so what can I do for you?"   
  
Felix turns to face him, shoulders hunched, arms crossed again, the momentary kindness sealed away. His narrowed gaze meets Dimitri's, and Dimitri can imagine what he sees: too-long hair, stubble, scars visible beneath the linen of his sleeping shirt. Certainly nothing like a king.  
  
Then Felix's jaw tightens, and he says in a torrent, "I wish to invoke the First Night."  
  
For a moment Dimitri cannot speak, all words torn from him by a wave of incomprehension, then shock, and then, appallingly, suspicion. Felix has spent the past nine years making sure Dimitri knows what he thinks of him, and never once has it been positive.   
  
He manages to say, all icy politeness, "Beg pardon?" He perhaps enjoys the flicker of uncertainty on Felix's face a bit too much, for Felix's hands fist at his sides, his nostrils flaring.  
  
"First Night," Felix repeats. "When the heir to Fraldarius lies with the heir of Blaidydd, as Fraldarius herself did with Blaidydd."  
  
Dimitri folds his arms across his chest and leans back, arching a brow. "I'm aware of First Night, Felix, but for all my sins, I have never wanted to take the unwilling. You cannot possibly want it-"  
  
"You don't get to tell me what I want!" Felix snarls back, pushing into Dimitri's personal space. The shock of a living being's warmth near him unbalances him, leaves him gazing down at Felix, lips parted.  
  
Felix glares up at him. If he were a cat, his ears would be flattened, his tail lashing.   
  
Dimitri shakes his head, then drops his arms, blowing out a weary sigh. "Felix, you don't want this." He holds up a hand to forestall Felix's no-doubt-enraged reply, continuing, "If you say we have to because of tradition, then first, when have you ever given a single thought to tradition, and second, I am absolutely sure that at least once, in the past thousand years since the War of Heroes, a Fraldarius did not have a Blaidydd as their first lover."  
  
"Besides that," and here he cannot stop hurt from creeping into his words, "you've made it clear that you despise me. Tradition cannot make me lie with a man who hates everything I am."  
  
"I don't despise you," Felix says, sharp, his brow creased with frustration. "I hated how you kept lying about who you were, but I never hated you." His lips press into a tight line before he plunges on, "I idolized you from our first meeting, and then you rode out to quell the Western Rebellion." He shrugs, the motion somehow too little for all the terror and blood that rebellion contained. "Then I saw that even you - our future king, Glenn's friend, practically my father's third son - could be cruel. Even you were flawed."   
  
Dimitri swallows down the words battering at his teeth. Felix is a tightly-wound knot of emotion at the best of times, and for him to reveal even this much seems impossible.  
  
Felix turns away to stare at the candle, its flame pale in the wind seeping in through the closed window shutters. His shoulders hunch around his ears as he prowls across the small space. His scabbard thuds against his thigh with each step. "Then we came to the Academy, and you turned yourself into a lie, all etiquette and tactics. It still wasn't you. Becoming the beast was only another lie. An excuse."  
  
"I'm sorry." Apologies, worth so little, and Felix slants a sharp glance at him and snorts.  
  
"All I ever wanted was for you to be honest about who you are. You said yesterday in the training ground that you have both the man's face and the animal's." He halts in front of Dimitri, and his face shines pale and grave and something approaching pleading. "Let that be the truth. Be a king I can follow. A king worth my father's life."  
  
Dimitri takes a deep breath. The back of his neck still burns where Rodrigue's blood spattered it.  
  
"I will be." He has to be worthy of all these incredible people pledging their lives and weapons to his cause. The burden presses upon him with each passing day.  
  
"Good." Felix nods.  
  
An awkward silence unfurls between them, before Dimitri ventures, "But why First Night?"  
  
Felix flings himself into the hideous desk chair and groans. "Ugh, fine. Look, you know the old man had to do it too, right?"  
  
"Er, yes. I am aware." Suddenly a bit nauseated, Dimitri drops onto his bed and avoids Felix's gaze altogether. Saints. He's known that his father and Rodrigue went through First Night together, but it's always been an intellectual knowledge, not something he ever wanted to give more than brief thought to. Besides, after Glenn died, and the rebellion destroyed their friendship, he never thought Felix would invoke the rite, and so put it out of mind.  
  
"So, look." Felix has never met something he couldn't take on with sheer courage, and so he presses gamely forward, his face aflame. "After Glenn died, the old man sat me down and tried to talk to me - don't laugh," he snarls, his expression the oddest mix of mortification and rage. "He explained why we have to do this, besides the tradition shit."  
  
Dimitri stuffs down his embarrassed wheeze and manages, "There's a reason?"  
  
Felix, the motion dragged out of him and gaze fixed on the floor, nods stiffly. "First Night binds together the hereditary advisor and shield of the monarchy and the monarch themselves, so that they know each other as people. My father always said he learned more about Lambert in that one night then he did in all the other years he knew him. That when Lambert was in a mood, or about to make a poor decision, he could reference First Night to get him to listen."  
  
"Ah," Dimitri says. He's still a bit stuck on the horror of his birth father and honorary father- "So you want to lie with me for political purposes." He can't claim to be surprised; having done what he's done, Felix knowing the man he is, who in their right mind would willingly take him as a lover? He is a beast, too rough for such things.  
  
Felix stares at him. His eyes gleam amber in the candlelight, before they narrow and he rises to his feet, all predatory grace.  
  
"No, Dimitri. I want you. All of you, the beast and the man. Show me what kind of king you are."  
  
Goddess. Dimitri exhales. His skin prickles with heat. "Very well." He stands up, all too aware of his height and bulk, the fierce swell of his muscle beneath the thin linen of his sleeping shirt.  
  
Yet Felix's eyes go dark with something other than fear. His cheeks flush, and Dimitri almost bites the inside of his lip to check he is real, it has been so long since he has seen another person blush for him. Felix wets his lips until they shine in the dim candlelight, then breathes, his voice raw,  
  
"Come on, then."  
  
Dimitri advances, each step stoking the blood beating in his ears into roaring life, and Felix retreats until he hits the wall. His hands flatten against the wood, and he shivers, lithe form taut.  
  
Dimitri almost pauses at the shiver, but Felix pierces him with a stare, lifts his chin to show the line of his throat above the black of his shirt. A challenge, even now.

Dimitri stalks across the room, rumbling low in his throat, "Wanting me to mark up that pretty throat, are you?"  
  
Felix makes a strangled noise, and then stills as Dimitri leans over him, forearm braced on the wall above his head, the other thumb resting in the divot of his sharp chin. He's caught, trapped between Dimitri and the wall, but his gaze is fearless.  
  
"So," Dimitri says, using his careful grip to tilt Felix's chin up until he meets Dimitri's gaze, "just how much have you done?" The heat between them chases the chill from his bones, leaves Felix's cheeks stained pink.   
  
"I’ve-" Felix's voice cuts off in a gasp as Dimitri runs his thumb up his jaw, rasping over scant stubble, and tucks one lock of blue-black hair behind his flushed ear. He shifts, swallows, then says, pride edging his voice, "I'm not some complete fool, you know; I've kissed Sylvain, and Ingrid, and I've walked in on Sylvain more than enough times."  
  
Not an utter virgin, good; Dimitri's had his share of experience, both with other students at Garreg Mach and some soldiers of the King of Lions Corps, but he'd be lost as to how to completely initiate someone into sex.  
  
"You've kissed both of them?" Dimitri turns his hand, pushes his fingers into Felix's hair. The cold strands slip across his skin like silk and catch on the scars. "What did you like?"  
  
Felix frowns, even as the same appealing flush on his cheekbones begins to rise in the hollow of his neck. His fingers drum against the wood. "I think they wanted to make each other jealous. Ingrid knew even less than I did, so it was-" he shrugs, "-odd. Sylvain was pushy."  
  
Dimitri removes his hand from Felix's hair with only a twinge of regret, sliding it down to curl about the hinge of his jaw. "I can see Sylvain being over-enthusiastic all too well, I'm afraid. Are you su-"  
  
Felix groans, frustration etching his face, then lunges out of Dimitri's grip, up onto his toes, and crushes his mouth against Dimitri. Only Dimitri's greater weight keeps him from reeling back. It's a sloppy kiss, Felix's mouth too open, the pressure too great, and he has no idea what to do with his hands; he raises them as if to grab Dimitri's shoulders, then drops them again, and his eyes clench shut, every fiber of him crackling with need.  
  
Dimitri smothers the laugh rising in his chest and manages to ease Felix back down, pull his mouth away. A thin strand of saliva stretches between them, glittering gold in the candlelight, then snaps.  
  
Felix opens his eyes to stare up, flush darkening into humiliation. He jerks back against the wall and leans away, as if to duck beneath Dimitri's arm. "Ugh, that was awful-"  
  
"Felix-"  
  
"I should have known better, this ritual is idiotic-"  
  
"Felix," Dimitri murmurs, and that makes Felix pause, slant a glance Dimitri's way, and there's his chance.  
  
He tips Felix's head up with a gentle finger beneath his chin and leans down to press his forehead to Felix's, catching his stunned gaze. He smells of sweat, the sand of the training grounds, the ozone of his magic, and when he swallows, licks his lips, Dimitri's blood burns. "Thank you," Dimitri whispers into the scant space between their mouths, "for trusting me with this," and he brushes his lips against Felix's.  
  
Gently, softly, he runs his lips over Felix's, gentling him into it, getting used to the feel, the warmth of him, the convulsive shudder of his throat against Dimitri's hand cupping his jaw. 

Felix's eyelids flutter shut, and he melts into Dimitri's hold. This man, all fire and will, surrendering himself into Dimitri's care - it beggars belief. A moan trembles in Felix’s throat as Dimitri flicks his tongue out to trace the seam of his lips. His hands clench against the wall when Dimitri suckles on his full lower lip, the slick sound obscene, and he gasps as Dimitri drops the hand on his chin to thumb at the first button of his overcoat. Dimitri licks into his mouth, flicks his tongue at the soft inside of his lips. The beast inside him pushes at his skin, demands he devour this all-too-willing prey, shove the confining layers aside and _take_.   
  
Felix's hips arch off the wall when Dimitri pulls his lower lip between his teeth, seeking pressure and not finding it, and he hitches a breath as Dimitri nips and lets go.   
  
"All right?" Dimitri says against Felix's ear, loving the shiver and throttled whine it garners. "You can touch me."  
  
Felix winds his white-knuckled hands into Dimitri's shirt and tugs the thin fabric tight. His hips jerk with each exhalation Dimitri breathes past his ear, but his voice is clear and steady when he says,  
  
"Keep going."  
  
Dimitri straightens, only to find Felix yanking him back down by the collar of his shirt.   
  
“And take this off, I’m not some maiden who faints at the sight of a man’s chest!”  
  
Dimitri rocks his knee forward and up between Felix’s thighs, just to watch Felix’s eyes darken and his hips thrust against the long muscular line of Dimitri’s thigh. His head knocks back into the wall, his hands straining Dimitri's shirt until threads threaten to pop beneath his grip. 

“Absolutely not a maiden,” Dimitri says, grinning.  
  
Felix snorts, then lets go of Dimitri to watch with greedy eyes as Dimitri grabs the hem and pulls it up and over his head, tossing it aside to settle on the desk.   
  
"Satisfied?"   
  
Felix stares at his chest, spattered with a pelt of dark blond hair narrowing down into his trousers, and moans low in his throat. His hips jerk against Dimitri's, and he licks his lips before managing, "Yes," his voice ragged. He reaches up, spreads his fingers across Dimitri's chest.  
  
A hot lick of arousal at Felix's hands - warm, calloused, faintly trembling - against his skin makes Dimitri shift, his trousers now uncomfortable. "You're not near as afraid as I thought you'd be," he says.  
  
"And you're not nearly as beastly as I thought you'd be," Felix mutters, his dark gaze fixed on where he touches Dimitri, nails raking through the golden curls of his chest hair. "Besides, I'm a twenty-two-year-old virgin, I’m more than a bit impatient."  
  
Amused, Dimitri braces his forearm back on the wall, leaning in so that Felix's gaze flicks back to his face before he stiffens, gasping when Dimitri presses his mouth to his flushed ear to whisper hotly, "Take off your clothes and you'll see just how beastly I can be."

Felix whines, his nails digging into Dimitri's chest when Dimitri turns his head to catch his earlobe between his teeth and tug. "Dimitri, Goddess -" he pants, entire body thrumming with caged energy, hands shoving uselessly at Dimitri’s shoulders, "-back up so I can get these clothes _off_ , you boar!"   
  
Dimitri allows himself to be moved back, but he stays close enough to help Felix undo his frankly ridiculous amounts of buckles and buttons. The pauldron thuds to the floor, the half-cape ends up draped over Dimitri's armor, the boots are flung across the room, Felix almost smacks him across the face when he triumphantly rips his sword belt from around his waist-  
  
Dimitri drags his gaze down Felix's body, from his ruffled hair falling out of his queue to the jut of his cock where it strains against the deep blue fabric of his trousers. He imagines he looks ravenous, the thirst to see what Felix looks like stripped utterly naked and crying out aflame in his throat, his thoughts hazed over with desire, and Felix swallows hard. A sudden shyness flickers across his face.  
  
"What? It's just me-" Felix starts to snarl, blushing and irritated about it, but he cuts off, sucks in a hard breath when Dimitri reaches out and untucks his shirt from his trousers, slipping his fingers beneath it. His abdomen quivers as Dimitri skims his hand up over the flat of his belly, pulling the shirt along with it. Inch by inch, he's revealed, all soft skin that goes pink beneath the stroke of Dimitri's nails, the ladder of ribs that tremble when Dimitri pulls the shirt up over his head and lets it fall to the side. His hair comes into view first, freed and riotous about it, before he blinks owlishly and yelps when Dimitri backs him up against the wall in one stride, hands curling about Dimitri's shoulders.  
  
"Goddess," Dimitri rasps, ducking to kiss him again so that Felix arches against him, twining one hand in his thick dark hair and angling his head back to expose more skin, "you're beautiful." So much skin, all warmth and vulnerability and trust, all his to mark - he's intoxicated with it, scatters nips and kisses across Felix's shoulders, darts his tongue into the hollows of his collarbones so Felix shudders in his arms-  
  
Felix moans, then rips his hand off Dimitri's shoulder and goes for his own cock.  
  
Growling, Dimitri pins the offending hand to the wall, satisfied when Felix gasps, knees threatening to go out from under him.  
  
"I want to be the one to bring you pleasure, Felix," Dimitri murmurs against his neck, dragging his mouth over the frantic pulse beating there. His lover smells of sweat, the heady scent of arousal, and he shudders so sweetly when Dimitri's stubble rasps against him, his nails digging half-moons of warm pain into Dimitri's shoulders.  
  
Dimitri drops both hands to Felix's trousers, undoing the laces, and yanks them down and off, leaving Felix in only his underwear. He startles when Dimitri sinks to his knees in front of him, then groans and blinks down at him with eyes hazed over and black. His neck and the delicate hollows of his collarbones shine pink from the scrape of Dimitri's stubble, deep wine-red and purple marks strung about his throat like a collar. Sweat gleams on the expanse of his chest as it rises and falls. Those marks are Dimitri's, this man, Dimitri's - Felix will always know who had him first.   
  
" _Saints_ , I want you." Dimitri shoves a hand down to press against his prick, just to ease the need boiling inside him at Felix undone, before he reaches up to span his hands across Felix's waist. His fingers almost meet about Felix's lean form, all whipcord strength, and Dimitri wants to consume him. 

But no, gentle, he has to be gentle, he has caused enough hurt for a lifetime, and Felix is still untried. Dimitri leans in, mouths across Felix's belly, then nuzzles at the warm plain of exposed skin, scenting him, and runs callused fingers down to settle on his hipbones, thumbs rubbing circles against the ridges of bone. Silence falls between them as Dimitri leans his forehead against Felix's stomach and breathes out the cresting desire, the appalling urgent need to devour.  
  
A knee shoved against his shoulder and two rough hands thrust into his hair break him from his reverie and draw his attention back to Felix. Felix glares down at him with arched brows and flat mouth, the effect somewhat ruined by his kiss-swollen lips and the blush on his face. His voice is only a little unsteady when he says,  
  
"Again, Dimitri, I'm not some maiden to be coaxed into bed, and I know who you are. Stop holding back."  
  
Dimitri swallows. For a moment the voices crowd at the inside of his skull, and blind rage threatens to make his fingers close too tightly about Felix's body. He takes a deep breath, then manages in a bare whisper,  
  
"I'm afraid of who I am when I don't hold back." Felix opens his mouth, poised to interrupt, so Dimitri preempts him, going on, "The crest of Blaidydd, the strength and stamina it gives me: I could hurt a lover, were I to be too rough. I am..." he falters, because he's never had to explain it so fully, and not to someone as dear as Felix, who's now peering at him with tilted head, expression for once patient.   
  
"I am not easily satisfied, especially when I let myself go. It takes a long time before I’m, er-" he swallows down the cough, and Goddess, his ears feel aflame, "-fulfilled, and I am also not-" he gestures at himself, "-a small man. In any respect."  
  
"So?" Felix tugs at his hair so that Dimitri looks up at him. His eyes narrow, his expression fierce in the shadow of his unbound hair. "I've stood beside you, watched over you, when you tried to forget the darkness in you, when you let it take you over. Nothing drove me away. Nothing will."  
  
Seiros. What a gift this man is.   
  
Dimitri blinks the forming wetness away from his eye and presses his mouth to just above the waistband of Felix's trousers, where a thin trail of dark hair leads downward. A dangerous joy roils within him, and finds freedom as he breathes, "All right, then, Felix. My Felix. You can have me."   
  
"Well, finally," Felix starts, only to yelp and clutch at Dimitri's shoulders when Dimitri tears his underwear down and flings it aside, then scoops Felix's legs up in one arm, his shoulders in the other, and bears him to the bed. He lets Felix fall to the mattress, where shyness makes him draw one leg up to shelter his prick, and stares with naked greed.  
  
The cloak gets shoved onto the floor and Dimitri takes its place, kneeling at the foot. The laces of his trousers are sweet agony pressed against his shaft. He wets his lips, and Felix, who's no doubt been getting ready to shout at him for taking so long, shivers. He lies back without prompting, hands lax at his side, and Goddess, the things Dimitri wants to do with this man, for him.  
  
"What now?" Felix's trying to sound irritated, but his voice comes out as a whisper instead.   
  
"Don't hide yourself from me," Dimitri says, and he would despise the dark hunger in his voice, the possessive growl, except for the way it makes Felix, stunned, suck in a breath, the scattered love-bites about his neck and chest fading into the sudden red flush of his skin. "I want to see you."  
  
Swallowing, his hands curling into the sheets, Felix straightens his leg and lets it fall to the side, baring himself for Dimitri's inspection. He is lovely even here; his cock curves gently upwards, the foreskin retreating to expose the tiny slit where a bead of clear fluid catches the light and glistens. Dimitri's mouth waters, and he is sure his expression is of a beast sighting prey.  
  
Dimitri reaches out, and Felix holds his breath, only to release it in an explosive rush as Dimitri touches the pad of his finger to his slit and lifts it, watching the strand of precome stretch until it snaps.   
  
"Oh, Goddess," Felix breathes when Dimitri brings his damp finger back and curls his tongue about it. Dimitri rises onto his knees, fits himself between Felix's spread legs, and wraps one calloused and scarred hand about Felix, all heated wet silk, the other resting on his sharp hipbone.  
  
"Begging already?" he murmurs, grinning up at Felix. Blood roars in his ears, his breathing animalistic at the pride of having this man, all snarls and ferocity, giving himself to this.  
  
"If it'll get you to fucking do something, I'll beg," Felix shoots back, groaning in frustration when he tries to thrust into Dimitri's hand, only to find himself held down. "I could die of old age before you-" whatever he was about to say disappears in a moan as Dimitri tightens his grip and strokes, watching more precome well and spill to coat his shaft and Dimitri's hand.  
  
"I adore how wet you get." He's beautiful, the shining slickness of his length, how Dimitri can encompass him in one hand, gently work Felix's foreskin back to expose the dark sensitive head, how Felix goes taut as a straining bowstring, face clear of everything but shock, when Dimitri presses his thumb to his slit and drags it down to massage just beneath. His hips jerk against Dimitri's grip, find no purchase, and he keens, arches against Dimitri's hand and swears.

Still, though, he lets Dimitri play, lets Dimitri make him tremble and shake, each squeeze of Dimitri's hand easing more shining wetness out of him to pool in the quivering hollow of his belly.   
  
"Look," Dimitri coaxes, and lets go of Felix's hip to dip his fingers in the evidence of Felix's desire. "Look how wet you are, how much you want this-"  
  
Felix looks, and his eyes are wide and black and the tiny shocked breath he lets go, as if he has never thought of how fierce his need can be, has Dimitri near-aflame. He rises onto his knees, lunges up to kiss Felix senseless, until Felix is moaning against his mouth and bucking into his thigh, his hands digging into the muscle of Dimitri’s shoulders. 

Dimitri licks down the column of Felix’s neck, refreshes the marks and bruises he’s left behind, ravenous for how Felix presses back into every suck and nip and bite, and then presses his mouth to Felix’s nipple, tongue slicking across that stiff peak of pink flesh.

He can feel the shock of pleasure race through Felix’s body, from the stunned mutter of “Goddess, Dimitri,” to how Felix’s cock pulses in his hand. Both his hands fly to Dimitri’s hair, try to shove his head closer even as Felix’s heaving chest rises into Dimitri’s mouth. Felix’s hips lift into his hand, thrust up to grind hand and leaking tip against Dimitri’s abdomen. He sobs for breath as Dimitri suckles at him, tests the edge of his teeth against his tender skin, and his hands tighten and pull until Dimitri’s scalp aches.

Good. To be able to bring such pleasure to someone so precious - it is exactly as a king should be. Everything is searing intensity - Felix’s other nipple caught in Dimitri’s mouth, the pounding of Felix’s heart rising to an unceasing thunder beneath his lips, the red wet flash of his panting mouth as his brow creases, eyes scrunched shut-

“Fuck, fuck - _Dimitri_!” he shouts hoarsely, going rigid in Dimitri’s arms, every muscle etched in stark relief as he strains up and trembles against Dimitri’s body. Warmth spills over Dimitri’s hand as Dimitri milks him through his climax with patient strokes. He doesn’t know where to look: the rivulets of spend coursing across Felix’s shuddering belly to roll in fat white droplets down his sides? His reddened face, lax and peaceful, lower lip bruised from Dimitri’s teeth?

Dimitri stills his movement until Felix blinks his eyes open, his loose hands falling from Dimitri’s hair to sprawl, palm-up, at his sides. He holds Felix’s gaze, both appalled and desirous, even as he lifts his hand away from Felix’s spent prick to lick every bit of Felix’s seed off his fingers, the riverine trail of white dripping down his wrist.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back into the pillows on a groaned, “Saints, Dimitri, you beast.” His soft cock betrays him by twitching, and Felix’s hips jerk at Dimitri’s laugh.

“As you said,” Dimitri murmurs, bending low to kiss down Felix’s belly, “you know what I am.” He traces down the heaving plain of Felix’s abdomen to lick up Felix’s spend there, too, and the darkness within him purrs at how Felix melts into the mattress, weary from climax, and watches him with sleepy eyes.

Those same eyes widen when Dimitri wraps his hands about Felix’s narrow hips and noses at his cock, lapping at the skin there until it’s clean. He’s warm here, too, the scent of him potent, and he flinches and moans when Dimitri curls his tongue about his prick and draws it into his mouth. He has to keep Felix pinned to the bed when he does, for Felix’s hands dart to his hair, his body twisting in Dimitri’s grip.

"Again?" Felix manages, even as he forces himself back to the mattress. He shivers, and so Dimitri pulls away from him and halfway sits up.  
  
"Too much?" Dimitri's a fool; it's easy for him to forget how sensitive other men become after climax. His crest spares him that experience, but it is no excuse for making Felix's First Night unpleasant.  
  
"I didn't say that." Felix props himself up on his elbows and frowns, though the habitual expression is more than a bit ruined by the blush, bite marks, and bruises. "Just surprised. You're my king, and I didn’t expect to have your mouth on my-" he stutters for a moment, bashfulness endearing, "-my cock." He sits up a little further, his gaze aimed meaningfully at Dimitri. "Besides, you haven't reached satisfaction yet, unless your trousers are hiding something."  
  
The concern is, honestly, touching. Dimitri can't help but smile and push himself to his feet, hands going to his waistband, which makes Felix sit all the way up, focused on Dimitri's hands.  
  
"I just want to warn you," Dimitri starts, "I would never have you feel obligated-"  
  
Felix waves an indulgent hand in the air. "Yes, I know, you have a cock as enormous as the rest of you. Take off your pants."  
  
Always so direct, Felix.  
  
Dimitri pushes his trousers down, exposing the thin cloth of his underclothes, where his prick has left the cloth translucent with need. Even through the cloth, its size is obvious, and no small part of Dimitri dreads Felix's reaction; he's always been too big, too strong, his frame brutal and meant for harm, and it's been humiliating to see lovers view even this part of him as something to be feared. The dusky head of his cock nudges at the waistband, and when Dimitri lowers his underclothes and steps out of them, his prick bobs free, kisses his belly, leaves a wet mark on the thin trail of blond hair. He forces his hands to stay relaxed and stares at the wall above Felix's head until his vision blurs. Easier not to see the distaste this way.  
  
"Oh," Felix says, stunned and soft. No horror, or disgust-  
  
Dimitri lowers his gaze to Felix, who has leaned forward, eyes wide. One indecisive hand hovers in the air.  
  
"If you'd rather I-"  
  
"Shut up, Dimitri," Felix says, and wraps his hand around him. He handles him with surprising confidence, his grip strong, his motions an almost-perfect copy of how Dimitri touched him earlier. He has always been a physical learner.  
  
Goddess, the heat, the pressure - Dimitri tilts his head back and hisses through his teeth, muscles strung taut at the sight of Felix willingly touching him, stroking him now, the friction bliss. His body burns for further completion, and it's been so long, but he wants to be selfish, wants to get back to sucking Felix's cock, wringing yet more pleasure out of him.  
  
Dimitri steps back, and Felix's dark brows knit when he meets Dimitri's gaze, mouth twisting unhappily.  
  
"Did I do it wrong?"  
  
"No, never." Dimitri stoops to kiss the frustrated expression off his face. He keeps kissing Felix, hands cupping his sharp jaw, thumbs stroking the cut of his cheekbones, until Felix flushes again and pants against his lips, hands woven once more in Dimitri's hair, which is growing steadily more tangled.  
  
"I just," Dimitri breathes into Felix's mouth, "need my mouth back on you."   
  
Felix moans. His eyes shine wild as Dimitri slides his hands down to his hips, drags him to the edge of the bed, and he slumps back against the wall, one knuckle caught between sharp teeth. Tension is etched in every line of his face, brow creased, breathing fast.  
  
Dimitri sinks to his knees between Felix's spread thighs, shouldering his knees apart. Felix's mostly recovered, and when Dimitri bends to take him into his wet mouth, he whines in disbelief and tries to buck against Dimitri's grip, gasping when Dimitri keeps him pressed to the bed and suckles.  
  
Yes. This. There are few things Dimitri loves more than bringing someone pleasure with his mouth; the control it gives him is intoxicating, the many noises he can pull from a lover the sweetest music.   
  
"Goddess, Dimitri," Felix mutters around his knuckle, "it feels-" He cuts off and shudders when Dimitri hollows his cheeks and sucks hard, arching against Dimitri and finding no purchase, trapped in Dimitri’s heat and unable to thrust. He moans unashamedly loud, voice cracking, when Dimitri flicks his tongue against his slit in a stinging kiss.

He’s letting Dimitri have him, for once not pushing back, so Dimitri lets go with one hand and drops it to his cock. It almost leaps into his hand, all heated iron, and the heat floods the rest of him, his body winding tighter. He swipes his thumb across the head and groans around Felix, who shivers, fingers scratching across his scalp, gaze fixed on Dimitri's mouth sealed around his cock.

The room fills with filthy sounds - Felix's stifled whimpers and moans, the creak of the bedframe, Dimitri's hand stroking over his slick cock - that have Felix blushing even more, hips twitching against Dimitri's hand spread across his belly. He is warm, vital, alive, and he twists and writhes and Goddess, he's gorgeous in the throes of his passion, damp hair sticking to his forehead, eyes bright.

Dimitri pulls off, licking numb lips, and takes a breath before he sinks back down onto Felix. He holds Felix's gaze the entire way, and glories in the way Felix's eyes go wide, shock washing across his face, when Dimitri angles Felix into his throat and swallows around him.

"Fuck, Dimitri, your mouth-"

Rising back up, swirling his tongue about Felix's straining cock, the pain of Felix's hands scrabbling at his head, his shoulders, a distant shock beneath the all-consuming roar of need-

He tears himself away, presses his sweaty forehead to Felix's hip, and snarls out his orgasm. His hips jerk into the channel of his fist. Come flows over his knuckles as he pants, working the last lash of pleasure out of himself until only a thin stream of clear fluid eases out. His heartbeat slows, the tension seeping from his muscles, but he's not done yet. Not for a long while, though the flames of need have abated for a time.

Felix tugs at his hair, and he pulls back to meet Felix's gaze.

"How dare you not let me see," Felix says, jaw tense. "And-"

His mouth snaps shut when Dimitri grins.

"We're not done, Felix." A pause - is this too bestial, too coarse, but then Felix had demanded all of Dimitri - before he rasps, "We're not done until I have you speared on my cock, crying my name. Until I've had you all the ways I can, until you're weeping with it."

Apparently it was just the right thing to say, for Felix makes a tiny, airless sound, eyes black. His cock, near-purple, wet at the tip, pulses, slit opening up to let more beads of precome fall slick and lovely over the shining head. His hips curl upward towards Dimitri's mouth, hand fisting in his hair, before he tries to yank Dimitri back towards his cock.

Adorable.

"Dimitri, come on!"

"Let me get my fingers in you first," Dimitri says.

Felix's hand loosens. He blinks down at Dimitri, suddenly unsure, and shifts on the bed. "Oh! I didn't bring anything- I mean, I have some sword oil, but-" he wrinkles his nose at this, mouth twisting, before he sits up on one elbow. "Yes. Let's try that."

"For slick, we-" Dimitri flushes, then manages with the most dignity he can scrape together, "-we could use my come?"

It's shameful, but he hardens further even as he says it. The dark places inside him, that yearn to take and keep and own, love the idea: his lover marked with him, in every way, in every place; his lover dripping with him, indelibly Dimitri's, forever.

Felix freezes, then shivers, a wave of arousal all over his body. "Okay. Is, uh, is there a better position for this?"

"Come a little further down the bed, then put your legs over my shoulders."

Grumbling, Felix does so, cheeks bright, and twists his hands into the bedsheets. He goes tense when Dimitri uses his clean hand to scoop up his muscled legs onto his shoulders, and when Dimitri turns his head enough to kiss one bony knee, he blushes before snapping,

"Can we just get on with this?"

"In a moment." Dimitri needs to savor this, first.

Felix remains a treasure, even here: his balls ride high with arousal in their sack of soft skin, and behind them, a small furl of muscle, pink and dry and tight, that catches at the tip of Dimitri's finger when he passes gently over. Felix's breath hitches, thighs tensing.

Dimitri glances up at Felix, who's staring back down at him, barely breathing, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He drops a kiss to Felix's hipbone before saying, come-wet finger circling the entrance to Felix's body,

"Have you done this to yourself?"

"No," Felix says. He glances away when he says it, as if Dimitri would judge him, and oh, the sudden fondness has Dimitri hiding his smile against his thigh, draped over his shoulder.

"Breathe out," Dimitri says, his breath against Felix's cock making it shudder. He licks up the bottom of Felix's cock, then sinks his mouth over him, down to the root. Felix's hips arch up in a spasm of pleasure, and as they fall Dimitri curls his finger up and in.

Felix shivers when Dimitri breaches him, his body clamping down onto Dimitri's finger like a silken vice. He shifts, huffs a breath, then tips his head back on a low grunt as Dimitri pushes into him, stroking at the heated wet openness of him. He's beautiful, the long lines of his body shifting between languid sprawl and tension, his scent and weight and warmth all Dimitri can feel. All he needs.

He curls his finger further, searching for the spot in the front wall, and-

Felix shouts, hips driving down against him, his cock leaping against Dimitri's tongue. His breathing shudders, and when Dimitri looks up the line of his body, he finds Felix staring back, a vision of need: cheeks red, eyes dark and pleading, sweat gleaming in the hollow of his throat, lips red and swollen from his teeth.

A possessive growl rises in Dimitri's chest at the naked desire in Felix's normally impassive face. He presses harder against the spot with his index, then finds it from the outside with his thumb and captures it from both sides, circling deep.

"Saints, Dimitri - I -" Felix's chest heaves, his words cut off in a sob as he shudders, tightening about Dimitri's fingers, "-I can't, I _can't_ -"

Dimitri pulls off of Felix again, holding him down as he snarls impotently at the loss and bucks against Dimitri's hand, spread across his quivering belly. He meets Felix's animalistic gaze and says, voice hoarse, "I can stop."

Felix bares his teeth. "Don't you fucking dare-"

Dimitri can feel the greedy smile overtake his face, before he bends once more and slips Felix's cock back into his mouth. The shock of pleasure that strings Felix tight is a perfect distraction; he slips another finger inside Felix and massages the swollen spot between thumb and forefinger.

"Dimitri, please-"

Felix arches, back a straining bow, quivering, and shudders, breath caught in his throat, eyes shut and mouth open. His thighs clamp shut about Dimitri's neck. His moans are cracked and beautiful as he shivers on Dimitri's fingers, cock jerking inside Dimitri's mouth. He spills down Dimitri's throat in a flood of warmth, then loosens and slumps to the bed, chest heaving.

Dimitri eases his fingers off Felix, his mouth off Felix's cock, and sits back. The fading tremors of Felix's climax, muscle rippling over his scarred knuckles, milk his fingers.

"Insatiable," Felix mutters in a raspy voice, cracking open an eye to shoot an accusing glare down at Dimitri. A few tears of exhaustion trickle down to wet his temples and the pillow beneath. "You, boar, are a menace."

Shrugging, Dimitri licks the last traces of Felix off his lips.

Felix's gaze darts from Dimitri's mouth to the slopes of his shoulders, and then he groans, flinging an arm over his eyes. "You still have your fingers in me," Felix says. He shivers when Dimitri drags his callused fingertips against the crushed velvet inside of him. "Which is fine, but is there a point?"

Dimitri shifts his weight from his heels, then rises up onto his knees. "I might be wrong, but from what I remember of First Night, the ritual is only finished when I have, uh, using the ritual's words, 'sheathed my sword in you.'" His cock nudges heavy and insistent at his abdomen, and he squeezes it with his free hand to ease the demanding itch of arousal.

Felix drops his arm from his face to stare at Dimitri with a dark expression. "Say that horseshit again and I will literally use your body for a scabbard."

"Noted." Dimitri rests his cheek against Felix's thigh. He only hopes his expression doesn't show the swell of love and fierce protectiveness in his breast, seeing Felix like this: loose and unguarded, showing Dimitri the soft undersides of his arms when he stretches his arms above his head with a groan, the dark fluffy cloud of his unbound hair, the faint trembles of exhaustion rippling beneath his skin.

Felix closes his eyes and sighs. "All right. Let's keep going."

"How would you like to do the next step?" It feels foolish to phrase it so delicately, when both of them know how this will end, but even so, Dimitri wants to be a good king, a considerate lover.   
  
Felix rakes his gaze over what he can see of Dimitri, brow furrowed, and Goddess, Dimitri wants to kiss that little wrinkle.  
  
"What are the choices?"

Dimitri spreads his fingers within Felix, just a bit, to keep him from tightening up too much while they consider, and Felix shudders, going pliant. His mouth waters with the urge to bite.  
  
"Well, you could stay on the bed, if you're tired, but we might need more pillows to, hm, get you at the right level." Dimitri glances up at the one sad pillow resting at the headboard. "And I'd rather neither of us get caught by the professor trying to find more. They never seem to sleep."  
  
Felix cocks his head. "'The right level-' oh. Well, it's the price you pay for being so damned tall."  
  
"Funny." He'd roll his eye, but it's been so long, years and years, since Felix has even tried to joke with him, and the return of it has his breath caught, heart pounding. "You could lie on your front, or on your knees. You couldn't see me, but I've been told that it's the easiest position for virgins."  
  
Felix's mouth twitches in something approaching a smile. "You've got half your hand inside me, I'm not sure I count anymore." His gaze drifts to Dimitri's shoulders, then his biceps, settling on the one that flexes as Dimitri lazily twists and crooks his fingers within him. He licks his lips, leaves them shining, and says, trying to be calm but betrayed by his own breathlessness,  
  
"I've heard that it's possible to, uh-" he lifts his hands in front of him, curved as if cupping hips or a waist, and mimes lifting and dropping.  
  
By the Four Saints. Dimitri swallows, mouth dry. The very idea, the sheer image of him taking Felix that way, rutting into him, moving him, burns his skin, galvanizes him into a storm of motion. He slips his fingers out of Felix, lunges up onto the bed, hands planted by Felix's head, knees nudging Felix's thighs apart. His hair, damp with exertion, licks at his neck. A few droplets of sweat fall from his heaving chest to run down over the myriad marks he's put on Felix, that Felix has let him-  
  
Felix startles, but then stares up, unafraid. He smiles, laced with smugness, and settles his hands on Dimitri. His nails dig in as if they had never left. "You like that idea," he says. There's almost a laugh in his voice.  
  
Dimitri leans down, brushes his lips over Felix's bitten-red ones, and says, the words mere breaths between them, "I like you trusting me."  
  
Felix tries to look away, cheeks reddening, but Dimitri uses his clean hand to nudge him back, hold him still for his inspection. This close, there's faint flecks of gold in Felix's eyes; how has he never noticed before?   
  
Felix shoves at his shoulders and snaps, "You're our king, of course I trust you."  
  
It's a gift, to be trusted. To be seen, in all the ways Felix has seen him, in despair and in hope, with blood on his hands, and to be trusted despite it.  
  
Dimitri swallows down the tears rising sudden and hot in his throat, and kisses him.  
  
"I will be worthy of you."  
  
Felix gulps. His eyes shine, wide and wet and dark in the candle's glow, before he manages, voice choked,   
  
"Get a move on, then."  
  
Dimitri kisses him again, then bites at his shoulder for the sheer joy of it, and slips off the bed. He finds Felix's belt easily enough, but it takes another minute of untangling the belt on his pouch to get inside.  
  
"That's not what I meant! What are you- oh-" Felix blinks as Dimitri triumphantly returns to the bed, bearing a vial of sword oil. "I thought we didn't need it?"  
  
Dimitri opens the vial and pours some on his fingers. Slick enough, and scentless; it should do fine. "If I was just going to enter you once, and not move until I released, we wouldn't." He fists his cock, spreading the oil over it, and takes selfish pleasure in the stunned sound Felix makes, his attention fixed on the motion of Dimitri's hand, his stiff length, slick and shiny.  
  
"But if you want me to lower you onto me, as it seems you do, it'd pain you too much without this." His abdomen clenches, and he lets go of himself with a hiss. "And even if you give me free rein over your body, I would not have you harmed."  
  
"Sap," Felix accuses, but he wraps his limbs about Dimitri regardless. He bites at Dimitri's neck until Dimitri stands, hands on Felix's hips. He's hardly a strain, lifted with only the slightest effort, and really, he's not contributing much; he's still shivering with exertion where he's pressed against Dimitri, slick with sweat, hot to the touch.   
  
Dimitri turns to catch sight of them in the mirror, pressed together, Felix's back taut, his hair falling about his shoulders, and himself: hair wild, his eye ravenous, hands grasping, brutal - but Felix has asked for this. Has asked for all of him, even the parts he would hide.  
  
Felix sucks in a breath as Dimitri cups his muscular cheeks and spreads them, fingers tracing his entrance: hot, swollen, red and a little puffy in the mirror, twitching with need. He is solid with muscle, his thighs and ass silk over steel: a warrior's body, honed for years, and he's letting Dimitri conquer him, see him soft and vulnerable. "Goddess," he breathes, tucking his face against Dimitri's neck, and shudders when Dimitri eases fingers back inside him.  
  
Heart heavy with tenderness, Dimitri turns to kiss his damp temple, the soft hair there, before whispering, "All right?" He's still tight, clenching onto Dimitri's fingers when he rocks them deeper, clinging even tighter when he pulls them out, as if he can't bear to let them go.   
  
"Yes, Goddess, just do it!"  
  
Dimitri slips out, widens his stance, and presses himself to Felix. In the mirror, his prick nudges against the tight furl, once, twice - then Felix surrenders to it. To him.  
  
Felix arches against him, his breaths hitching and staccato as Dimitri enters the obscene sweet heat of him. His brow draws tight, as if in pain, but his mouth hangs open in something approaching ecstasy. His fingers dig into Dimitri's shoulders. His heartbeat flutters in the blue veins of his marked throat.  
  
Dimitri groans out the wave of possession, breathless with it. The urge to thrust, to roll his hips into Felix's delicious friction, overwhelms, but no - he has to control himself. The urge expresses itself in him shifting his grip on Felix's rear, the faint bruises rising beneath his fingertips. His knuckles shine bone-white in the dimness where he's holding himself back.  
  
Felix's grip loosens. The warm breath panting against his neck slows. He shifts, trying to work himself downward.  
  
Dimitri sinks an inch further, then retreats, repeats the motion. His heart hammers in his ears, but even so, the slick sounds of him inside Felix, the thin whine Felix lets out every time he takes another inch, inflames him. In the mirror, he looks bestial, primal, his lips drawn back in a snarl of desire, his hair damp with sweat, hands broad and conquering on Felix's hips, his hips rolling in short jerks. And yet, Felix is here, accepting him, even as his hole stretches taut and white about Dimitri's girth.  
  
Felix claws at his back, debauched, desperate, and so, so damned brave, panting curses, and opens to him, lets him in.  
  
Dimitri's vision swims, but he frees a hand enough to grope clumsily between them. Finds Felix's cock, hard and damp, the head smearing precome between them, onto Dimitri's scarred abdomen.  
  
"Still?" His voice, all possessive rumble, makes Felix shiver. His body milks Dimitri with every motion, and Dimitri has to take a deep breath, tension crackling up his spine.  
  
"Mm," Felix mutters against his shoulder, then turns his head. His lips slide warm and damp against Dimitri's neck as he drags a torturous kiss across the thick tendon there. He moans when Dimitri's hips twitch up into him at the contact, then laughs, confessing, "I've never minded a little pain." This man - defensive and savage - lies pliant against the hard and vicious planes of Dimitri's body, utterly surrendered. Trusting Dimitri to hold him up.  
  
"Felix, you-" he starts, incredulous, but then has to nudge Felix's head back and kiss him, thumb rubbing across the slit of his cock, collecting the wetness there. A shudder ripples up Felix's spine, hands flexing on Dimitri's shoulders, and he yields the last terrible inch.   
  
Felix's breath hitches, a thick wet sound, then sobs against Dimitri's mouth as he finally seats himself on Dimitri. He is a storm caged in the circle of Dimitri's arms, trembling, wracked with pleasure, choking out desperately,  
  
"Fuck, I- you're- you're inside me." Overwhelmed tears trickle from his closed eyes when he shifts in Dimitri's hold, clenching sweetly about Dimitri's cock.  
  
Dimitri has to let go of Felix then to settle his hand back on Felix's hips where it belongs, spread him further just to stare with avarice at where Felix has opened to him. He whispers, voice unrecognizable even to himself, soaked in lust,   
  
"I've got you. Mine. My Felix. My Fraldarius."

He tightens his grip so he can lift Felix up, dropping his hips as he does. Felix tightens about him, the dirty friction of his body searing Dimitri all the way to his toes. His entrance clings to the girth of Dimitri's shaft, pink and wet and open.  
  
Felix's fingers claw into the back of Dimitri's neck when he pulls him down and thrusts up, and Felix chokes out a sob. It's a raw sound, tumbling into a hitching wail as Dimitri increases the pace, hips surging up into that tight heat he thought he'd never know.  
  
"Goddess, fuck, Dimitri-" Felix's words slur into a moan when Dimitri shifts his hands, tilts Felix's pelvis just a fraction back, searching.  
  
Felix muffles a scream in Dimitri's neck, the sound thrumming across his skin, when Dimitri finds his spot and grinds against it, hips circling to wring out every last ounce he can give.   
  
He can't see the expression on Felix's face, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead; he jerks his head to flick it out of the way, animalistic, growling in irritation, and then thrusts harder. Urgency strings him tighter and tighter, his toes curling against cold stone, his words lost in the need. He ruts into Felix's pliant body, handling him like a - Saints, like a _toy_ , a tight hole for him to fuck into, and Felix takes him, teeth set into the muscle of Dimitri's shoulder, what's visible of his face in the mirror an agonized twist of pleasure. Open, vulnerable, unable to hide a thing, even the subtle flinch and groan when Dimitri rocks his cock all the way out, then slams back in to the root. The smack of skin on skin with each thrust is bestial, brutal, and it sets Dimitri's blood on fire.  
  
Orgasm overtakes him in a rush. Roaring, he buries himself into Felix as his hips jerk into him, emptying into the torturous press of his lithe body. Marking him, indelibly, as Dimitri's. Felix will never forget that Dimitri had him first, that Dimitri brought him to this precipice. He closes his eye and takes a deep breath as the last pulses of come spill. His heartbeat slows, and finally, as through a haze, he eases mostly out of Felix. The way is slick and easy, paved with his spend. A few drops of white fall from where he's exposed to air and plop onto the floor.  
  
Felix, inexplicably, is laughing. Even as his tears wet the scars on Dimitri's neck, his every limb trembling in exhaustion and the dampness of his open mouth smeared across Dimitri's shoulders, he's laughing.  
  
Dimitri has to clear his throat, scraped raw, before asking, "Felix?"  
  
"Seiros, you're so-" Felix breathes. Whatever he's accusing Dimitri of being is lost in a groan when he leans back in Dimitri's arms. Silence falls between them. Felix's hair lies in tangles about his reddened face, tear-tracked, his eyes bright as fire. The graceful line of his neck bears a purple and white collar from Dimitri's teeth, and his nipples, pink and tender, have been abraded to swollen hot peaks where the coarse hair of Dimitri's chest scraped him raw.   
  
His mouth dry, Dimitri shifts Felix's weight onto one hand and passes his thumb gently over Felix's nipple. Goddess, what sort of man, much less a king, is he, to hurt his partner so?  
  
Felix hisses and clenches ever tighter about Dimitri, but his gaze is level. It sharpens like a knife when Dimitri opens his mouth, and he cuts him off with a mulish,  
  
"Shut up. I know you, all of you, and I liked it, and you don't- you don't get to take that from me."  
  
Well. Not much one can say to that, so Dimitri leans down to kiss him instead.  
  
Felix's mouth curls into a smile against Dimitri's, his eyes falling closed. His lashes lie like black sweeps of ash along his cheekbones. His arms, strengthened anew, tighten about Dimitri's shoulders, and he curses when his cock bumps back against Dimitri's abdomen. He lets his head fall forward to Dimitri's shoulder on a groan and jams his eyes shut.  
  
Dimitri nudges his nose against Felix's hair. "Once more?"  
  
"I'm not moving for it," Felix mumbles, his voice tickling. "And, uh, slower. Not that fast is bad, you were very impressive, I'm just-"  
  
"I understand," Dimitri says. "I'll take care of you."  
  
Felix bites him, then lets go on a murmured, "Sap. Again."  
  
Dimitri's chest aches, the pain as keen as love or grief. He adjusts his hands to better support him, this precious creature entrusted to his keeping: one arm slung about the slim curve of Felix's hips to hold him close, the other loosely curled about Felix's prick. It fills his hand, stiff and hot and damp, and Felix moans, tries to shift into his hold but, lacking the strength, only shudders.  
  
"I've got you," Dimitri whispers against the damp softness of his hair. He rocks his hips into Felix, slow, gentle, careful. The motion, regular and easy as waves upon the shore, pushes Felix against his body, his cock into the tunnel of Dimitri's fist.   
  
Felix's breathing hitches. His fingers curl into Dimitri's hair and entwine, the pain dull compared to the joy of having this man safe, trusting, in his arms. He shivers with each slow pass of Dimitri's cock, shifting in Dimitri's hold, his thighs tightening, trembling, against Dimitri's waist.  
  
Time stretches. The world narrows to this room, Felix in his arms, the hot clutch of his body, the naked need in his furrowed brow. Felix's breaths rise into moans breathed wet and hot against Dimitri's neck, then to whines of overstimulation, as they rock into each other, against each other, his cock leaping in Dimitri's hand. He's beautiful, glowing with sweat, so strong and yet so yielding, accepting everything Dimitri has to give.  
  
Another gentle twist of his hand, another nudge of his hips, and Felix stiffens against him, tears edging between the dark fans of his eyelashes. He trembles, breathes out his pleasure in hitching whines as his cock twitches in Dimitri's grip and spills a few thin drops of clear fluid to dampen Dimitri’s scarred knuckles. To have given this, even this last gift, to Dimitri-   
  
Felix only shifts, panting, and goes slack, utterly spent, when Dimitri thrusts into him and groans, hands tightening, cock jerking and spilling its last load inside Felix. Exhaustion drenches him. The candle flickers, burnt low. It takes nearly all he has to stagger to his bed, and when he lifts Felix off of his softening cock to turn him around, Goddess- his come streaks Felix’s hole.

The bed is damnably narrow, so he has to settle for arranging Felix face-down and easing himself to the hard stone floor beside him. Dimitri aches, in a way he hasn’t in so long: worn out, filthy, and yet immeasurably happy. Trusted, both to have and to hold, to use his strength for pleasure only; he has to hide his face in his drawn up knees for a moment, breath shuddering, at the enormity of it all.

Speaking of trust… he pushes himself upright and goes to the washbasin, dampening the softest cloth he can find, before turning back. Tenderness seizes his heart, as ferocious as any cry for blood, at the sight of Felix sprawled in his bed, breathing slowly, his eyes shut: trusting Dimitri to keep the wolves from the door.

The bedframe creaks as Dimitri kneels between Felix’s legs, and Felix sputters awake with a faint, questioning sound, limbs flailing.

Dimitri presses a hand between Felix’s shoulder blades and leans in to whisper, “Shh, it’s me.” It does no good, for Felix turns enough to glare over his shoulder with one narrow eye, the effect that of a monastery cat woken from its nap.

“Saints, what now?” His irritated squint is ruined by the pillow lines creasing his face and the unmistakable glow of a fulfilled lover. “I’m serious, wake me only if the Empire attacks.”

“Just cleaning you up.”

“Oh.” Mollified, Felix sinks back into the mattress, murmuring pleased noises as Dimitri carefully, patiently, wipes his arms clean of sweat, even passing the cloth between his half-curled fingers. Another silence, broken only by the gentle sounds of their breathing, as Dimitri works, using his free hand to massage the knots of tension out of those well-beloved limbs.

Felix shivers, goosebumps erupting along his spine, when Dimitri strokes the cloth up to his neck, where his hair curls in blue-black ripples against the purpled marks Dimitri gave him. He hisses between his teeth when Dimitri bends to kiss one, but doesn’t push him back, and the sudden wave of emotion makes Dimitri close his eye and turn away.

Onward: long, slow passes along Felix’s back, his spine rising in a sinuous arch into the cup of Dimitri’s hand. Water droplets trail along the grooves of his spine, streak down through the hollows between the graceful curves of his ribs to dot the coverlet with spots of gray. His even breaths skip a beat when Dimitri passes over his rear to wash the long muscles of his thighs, the swell of his calves, flecked with downy dark hair. Then his feet: callused, the two outside toes of his left foot still bent from where he’d kicked a stone and broken them when they’d played at the Fraldarius estate. Dimitri had had to carry him home, still sniffling.

Dimitri knows this body as he knows no one else’s. 

He takes a deep breath to prepare himself, then uses his free hand to part Felix’s cheeks, letting his hand grow heavier when Felix stiffens against the weight, toes curling in the coverlet.

Felix looks… well, unmistakably, thoroughly _used_ , and Dimitri swallows down the possessive, prideful growl that clamors to be free. His lover’s hole shines red in the dim light, puffy, a little loose, several strands of Dimitri’s come trailing out and down to streak the back of his soft balls. 

For a moment, Dimitri wants nothing more than to scoop every bit of his come up on his fingers and press it back into Felix. Wants to lick it off him and feed it back into his loose hole with his mouth, tongue wet and hot and soft where Felix is sore and empty. But a king cannot be ruled by passions, and so he only draws the damp cloth over Felix, then drops it off to the side of the bed. He follows it to rest on the floor, leaning his shoulders back against the cold wood bedframe.

Silence. The candlelight flickers in the mirror, and the wind sighs past the casement, cold, carrying the scent of ashes. The world outside, waiting for dawn, and inside, him, his hands, awash in blood. Has he been too rough, too much a beast? Taken more than was offered?

“You’re thinking,” Felix says, words muffled, and Dimitri startles, looking up from his hands to where Felix has shoved his face back into the pillow. “Nothing good happens when you think.”

Dimitri smothers the grin wanting to rise to his lips, says, grave, “Felix. I-”

“Stop it.” Groaning, Felix rolls over onto his back and squints at Dimitri. “Stop feeling guilty. Guilt solves nothing.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

Felix frowns at him, a strange solemnity in his eyes. “No more than I wanted. No more than I asked for. If you had been only kind, like at the end, I would’ve…” he falls silent, chewing his bottom lip, before saying, hesitant, “...felt cheated. Like you didn’t trust me with all of you, when I knew who you were.”

Dimitri twists to face Felix fully, their faces close together. Trust, Felix says, when Dimitri has always trusted Felix, trusted everything and everyone but himself.

“You have all of me,” he says, too honest, the words cracked, and Felix’s blush, then, stuns him. “Everything I am. The worst of me, and the best. I only hope that it is enough.”

“I know you,” Felix says, and there’s a terrible keen longing in his voice, on his face, and so Dimitri rises onto his knees, bends to kiss him, and Felix rises to meet him, their hands entwined.

“I know you,” Felix murmurs again against Dimitri's mouth, and that - to be known, wholly, fully, and trusted in spite of and for all he is-

That is joy enough to live for.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are adored! My Twitter handle is 'carthageburning' and my Tumblr is 'brightlyburning1,' should you want to follow me there.


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